


The Big Shave of 2016

by kingkoblih



Series: The Big Shave of 2016 [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-08 08:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8836759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingkoblih/pseuds/kingkoblih
Summary: Emil finally pulled his courage together and decided to shave. There was no point in keeping it, it only caused trouble. Food got stuck in it all the time, he had to trim it regularly not to look like a complete hobo. Besides, girls laughed at him. So, it had to go.





	1. I. Ragazzo

I.

He was looking in the mirror. Well, staring. Staring at himself. He got used to this look quite easily, even though he’d been rocking it for what, five, six months? Not that long, but he still felt that, by that time, it was a part of him.

“Hurry up, _bambino_!”

“Nice landing, kiddo!”

“Out of the way, boy! Move, _ragazzo_!”

He was used to hearing all of these. Not particularly fond of it, but used to it, yes. It was the way Michele talked to him.

“Come on, I don’t call you a grandpa, either!” he laughed, brushing it off. But it still bothered him. He was never seen as an equal. He was always the goofy younger brother, the weird young friend, but never a damn good skater, never taken seriously enough.  
That’s why, when he first tried to ask Michele out, he was turned down epically. Those purple eyes piercing right through his own, those lips curved into a mocking grin. And the words that Emil knew by heart now: “You’re too young, Emil. You’re not a real man yet.”

There was nothing he could do about it. The Czech could argue that during his hiking expeditions he surely grew a bigger man than Michele ever could by sitting at his Italian house complaining about his sister’s wooers. But what good would that do? One doesn’t simply add years to their age. And if Michele said there was no way he’d go out with Emil, he couldn’t force him. That didn’t mean he’d given up, though. Just a week or so later Emil overheard his Italian crush chatting with Sara, saying that men with facial hair looked good. Looked _older_ and smarter to him. It was no surprise that the next morning Emil threw his razor into the trash and instead of shaving he enjoyed five more minutes of watching cartoons. During the Skate Canada there already was a nice stubble on his face, which Sara complimented, by the way, and at the Rostelecom Cup JJ recognized him only thanks to his costume.

He enjoyed looking older. Even though his goofiness stayed, people seemed to really take him a bit more seriously. After all, with his height he now looked like a typical Czech ice hockey player. Dad was happy about that. Still bitter about his son choosing figure skating over hockey, now he could at least say that his son finally didn’t look _jako buzerant_. However, the Italian skater didn’t pay attention to it at all.

Which was why Emil finally pulled his courage together and decided to shave. There was no point in keeping it, it only caused trouble. Food got stuck in it all the time, he had to trim it regularly not to look like a complete hobo. Besides, girls laughed at him. So, it had to go.

                 **************

“Sara! Come here!” he screamed. His sister rushed into the living room in no time, thinking her twin brother was in a need of help, only to find him pointing at a phone screen, both hands visibly shaking. “Come here and look at this!” Michele looked furious. But, then again, he looked furious nearly all the time. Sara, with her face clearly saying _this better be worth it you man child_ , leaned forward to scan the phone screen with her gaze. The Instagram picture already had thousands of likes, yay.

            “Yeah, Emil shaved. Saw that last night,” she replied with no excitement in her voice what so ever. “He looks cute.”

“Cute?!” another loud exclamation. “Why did he do that?! He looked so good! Now he looks like a baby!” Michele couldn’t wrap his mind over the newly obtained information. Emil’s face looked so different… He stared at the screen for another five seconds, trying to comprehend what just happened.

“He said his girlfriend wasn’t too enthusiastic about it,” Sara shrugged and turned around, ready to get back to her room. She was stopped by a hand clasping around her wrist, though.

“Girlfriend?”

“Yes, girlfriend, Mickey. Emil and Lucka have been together for, like, two weeks now. Do you really not talk to Emil at all? He even has a picture of them together on his Instagram, if you just could get over yourself and scroll past the babyface picture,” she shook her brother’s hand off and walked back to her room. She didn’t have time for this.

Michele was surprised by her words. No, he really didn’t talk to Emil much. To be exact – he didn’t reply to most of Emil’s messages. The Czech usually texted him about such minor things like losing his gloves or skipping a class to sleep in. Or wishing him good luck before or good night after a long day… He shook his head quickly and swiped his finger across the screen, scrolling through the dashboard. And there it was. Emil and… Lucie, right? He had to admit she was a beautiful girl. Long, brown hair, big blue eyes, freckles on her tiny nose. They were both smiling wide, pressed to each other, cheek to cheek, trying to squeeze into the picture with a giant Christmas tree on a square in Olomouc. Emil asked him to visit the Christmas market with him numerous times, but he said no. The caption under the picture was a bunch of hearts. _He always said no._

                                        ******************

December approached faster than he thought. Suddenly the first week was over and he still didn’t have any presents. More importantly, for his presents to reach all his friends across the globe in time, he should’ve sent them at least a week ago! 2016 was a giant mess of a year and the holidays only confirmed that. No wonder his Saturday night ended up being just him sitting on the living room floor, wrapping presents and making them ready to be shipped in boxes with his friends’ addresses already written on them. It was almost 10pm when he almost dropped the scissors due to a loud ringtone resonating suddenly through the room. Quickly searching through all the scraps of wrapping paper, he finally managed to get the phone and after he ripped off a few bits of tape stuck to it he finally tapped the green phone icon.

“ _Slyším!_ ” he said firmly, not even bothering to check the name on the screen. Surprisingly, all he could hear was silence. At least for the first few seconds. “ _Haló?_ _Slyšíme se?”_ he asked a bit hesitantly.

“Could you _please_ use a language I actually understand?”

“Mickey!” Emil’s lips spread into an excited smile. That was probably the last person he was expecting to hear. “How are you doing?”

“Great.” The answer was very straight forward and Michele’s voice sounded even more tense and angry than usual. There was an awkward silence before Emil spoke again.

“That’s good to hear. So what have you been up to? How’s Sa-“

“Come to Barcelona with me.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> bambino - kid, child  
> ragazzo - boy  
> jako buzerant - like a fag  
> Slyším! - I can hear you!  
> Haló! Slyšíme se? - Hello! Can we hear each other?
> 
> Italian translations might be wrong, if you come accross any mistakes, hit me up! I'm Czech and don't speak Italian what so ever. ;)


	2. II. The Cup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “For fucks sake, Emil, how many times have I told you not to do this?!”
> 
> “Do what?”
> 
> “Surprise me in public like this! Dannazione!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-betad - feel free to point out any mistakes you find!!!

Silence.

Michele was holding his breath. He wasn’t able to even blink. Waiting for the answer, his body tensed, he wasn’t able to move. But the answer wasn’t coming…

“I mean…” Emil started hesitantly, but Michele was a step ahead. Hearing the hint of unsureness in the Czech’s voice, he grasped onto the phone even harder and spoke. His voice was shaky, but firm and he spoke faster than ever.

“I know it’s unexpected, but I’ll buy you the plane ticket and a pass to the final events, I’m sure Sara will be happy to see you there, too, I know it’s during your exam term, I’m sorry if it’s inconvenient for you, but I would lo-“

“I’ll go.”

Silence.

This time Michele wasn’t capable of letting out a single sound. In the back of his head he was sure Emil would refuse. It was his exam term at school (which Emil took extremely seriously) and there still was Lucie whom he’d probably have to ask and…

“Are you there? I said I’ll go with you. When are we leaving? For how long?”

“I’ll message you about everything. Good night.”

_Beep beep beep beep_

_**************************_

Emil kept the phone at his ear for another good minute before realizing the Italian hang up. “ _Co to s ním je?_ ” he muttered for himself before putting the phone back down on the floor. He didn’t have much time to think about it, though, he let the Christmas mess on the floor and walked to his bedroom. He opened his laptop (conveniently covered with cartoon dog stickers) and quickly started figuring out how to move his exams to January.

He’d been studying at a new school since September. A university this time. It was a bit weird, he never thought he’d even make it there. He wasn’t exactly the smartest cookie in high school, languages were hard to understand for him (even though he tried, oh boy, he tried so hard!) and when it came to Science or Chemistry, well, that’s where he didn’t even bother to try. Same with History and Geography. Most of the time Emil was too busy with his practice to really dig into his textbooks, so he had to come in peace with his grades not being the best. He excelled in Math, though. However, since he was never able to explain his thoughts when it came to solving mathematical problems, his classmates just hated on him for not helping them. And it wasn’t something he’d enjoy to study for another 3 or 5 years.

It wasn’t until he sprained his ankle during a training camp when he realized having a good education might be more important than he thought. After having a long talk with Sara, who herself was struggling to evenly distribute her time between university, skating and personal life, he was left in his bed with a head full of thoughts. _I can get injured any time. I can quit my career any time. Everything can change in just one heartbeat. What would I do then? There’s nothing else I excel at, nothing else I have… A sprained ankle is nothing serious, but one day I might break my leg and what then?_ After the camp he informed his parents he was going to try to get to a university. Preferably in Prague or Brno. And he failed. Instead, he was accepted to Olomouc, which was a smaller school with not as good of a reputation as the ones in Prague or Brno, but at least it was closer to his hometown and it meant he didn’t have to change a home rink. In September he started his first classes, his major being “ _Coaching and sport”_. Luckily for him, the Faculty of Physical Culture turned out to be a friendly place, the stuff supported him and everyone was always helpful to adapt his schedule to his figure skating duties.

So, now he was sending e-mails to all his tutors, apologizing for not being able to catch the first tries of his exams, hoping they would understand. He had to go to Barcelona. It was his duty to support his friends (yes, that’s what he considered all the figure skaters there), mainly Sara. She’d done so much for him in the past, this was the least he could do. And when it came to Mickey… He still had no idea what’d gotten into him and what that call was supposed to mean, but he decided not to question anything at that moment. He was going with him, no matter what. _Because that’s what friends do._

                                                                                              **********************************************

 “I can’t believe I’m doing this…” he muttered to himself. Grumpy as always, maybe even a bit more since it was too damn early in the morning.  He was standing in the middle of the airport hall, a suitcase (in the colors of the Italian flag) by his right side, a Starbucks cup in his left hand. They misspelled his name on the cup. He looked like an ordinary tourist when not in his usual tracksuit. This time his travel outfit consisted of black, stylish sweat pants, a hoodie and a warm black coat. It looked funny, but for a flight he was able to swallow his Italian pride and be comfortable, rather than stylish. Of course he had three pairs of fancy pants and jeans in the suitcase for when they were in Barcelona.

He kept checking his phone. _Emil should’ve been here ten minutes ago, goddamn it…_ Michele was already dialing Emil’s number when the tall Czech tapped his shoulder.

“Mickey~!” he greeted his friend with a wide smile, even though it was obvious he ran for his life for the past 10 minutes. He’d been on the way since early morning, hopping on the bus at 4am to get to Vienna where he was supposed to meet up with Michele and fly to Barcelona. Michele jumped up, not realizing at first who the person behind him was. Sure, the voice was familiar, but the face…

“For fucks sake, Emil, how many times have I told you not to do this?!”

“Do what?”

“Surprise me in public like this! _Dannazione!_ ”

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have much time for this, do we?”

Michele let out a frustrated huff, Emil was right, they needed to get on the plane as soon as possible. He grabbed the handle of his suitcase, but before moving…

“Here.” he muttered, handing the taller male his Starbucks cup. It’d been empty a long time before Emil came.

“Oh, neat!” Emil quickly shook it, making sure the cup was actually empty, and put it into his backpack. It was one of his weird obsessions. Or, at least, that’s what Michele called it. Emil collected strange things. Ugly socks, beer openers, dog stickers… And also the Christmas cups from Starbucks. The problem was, Emil didn’t drink coffee, in fact, he hated it. So, last year, for the first time, he actually made Michele go to the stupid “coffee” shop with him. The deal was clear.

“I pay for it, you drink it. I just want the cup, that’s all!” he used to say with a wide smile. Michele was very fond of coffee. Unfortunately, nothing in that stupid franchise tasted good to him. The coffee was awful. Even worse when he attempted to overpower the gross taste with some kind of a flavoring. And yet, there he was. Giving Emil the first red cup of the year. There was something about those blue eyes, how they sparkled when Michele (sometimes unknowingly) did something nice for their owner. Suddenly he wondered… _Do his eyes sparkle when he’s with Lucie?_ He wondered. _Does she give him the cups, too?_ He wondered. _Does she do more for him than I do? Does she not complain about everything he asks for?_

He wondered. _Does she deserve him more than I do?_

“Mickey? Hey, Mickey!” he snapped out of the dark thoughts, a hand waving in front of his face. “Are you okay? I lost you there for a minute, buddy.” Emil’s expression showed signs of concern, even though he was still smiling. Damn, that face was still so different from what Michele was used to. They’ve known each other for ages, Emil always looked like this, so why was it bothering him so much? Why did he miss the stupid beard?!

“I’m fine. Let’s go.” without saying anything else, he grabbed the suitcase and led their way to the terminal. In just a while they were already sitting in the plane, leaving to Barcelona. _To cheer on Sara_ , he thought. _To get him back_ , he thought as his mind was suddenly overwhelmed with nothing but pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Co to s ním je? - What's wrong with him?  
> Dannazione - goddamn it (or something like that dear lord don't kill me for my nonexistent skills in Italian :'D)


	3. III. The Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emil couldn’t wait for Mickey to be back with Sara, even though this whole trip still seemed like a bad idea to him. Sara didn’t know about them coming and she had specifically told Michele not to come. And, as much as he loved his best friend, if he tried to convince her it was Emil’s idea, this boy was going to get punched.

III.

He still wasn’t entirely sure why he was there. Walking around the streets of Barcelona with a half empty wallet, a camera and a phone. What was he doing? Looking around, trying to find a place with less people, straying to a Christmas market full of children and little stands with overpriced drinks. Alone.

Mickey was sleeping. He hated flying more than anything (and Mickey hated a lot of things, including mushrooms, bugs and Adele), so the stress added to the early waking up and he had to take a rest before looking for Sara. The flight was no fun, either. Michele got mad at him for no reason. Or, rather, the reason was just too stupid, even for Michele.

“You’re not gonna try to keep me from sleep this time?”

“Nah, I’ve got the new Pokémon Sun, want to play for a while.”

“… So… You’re not gonna natter about your day the whole flight.”

“Nope, I’ve got a first Pokémon to choose, wanna help me?”

“No.”

“Alrighty, good night!”

…

…

“What’s wrong with you, Emil?!”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t be so silent!”

“You always say you want me to shut up, what’s wrong?!”

It was ridiculous and everyone was looking at them. It was also so unlike his friend. Emil couldn’t wait for Mickey to be back with Sara, even though this whole trip still seemed like a bad idea to him. Sara didn’t know about them coming and she had specifically told Michele not to come. And, as much as he loved his best friend, if he tried to convince her it was Emil’s idea, this boy was going to get punched.

He didn’t plan on buying anything that day and yet, suddenly he found himself at one of the stands, staring at a beautiful bracelet. It was made of blue beads and rhinestones and it caught his eye immediately. Because it reminded him of _her_. He smiled wide as his eyes slid from the piece of jewellery to the seller. He bought it. He had to. _She’ll love it so much!_

_************************************************************_

Michele woke up with the sound of the door closing. He figured out it would be Emil coming back from his little walk.

 “Can you be even louder next time?” he muttered and rolled over to his back. He finally opened his dark, sleepy eyes and stared at the white ceiling for a while before sitting up. Emil just laughed and sat on his bed, taking the little paper bag containing his new treasure out of the backpack.

“I’m sorry,” he grinned with a teasing voice. “Did you not get enough of your beauty sleep?”

“That was no beauty sleep, I was tired!” Michele snapped and fell back on the bed. Emil was always so cheerful, even when people scolded him. How did he do that? “What is that, anyways?” he turned his head back to the Czech and pointed at the bag in his hands.

“A present.” Emil said simply.

“Well, who for?” Michele rolled over to his side, staring at the bag.

“And why’s that important to you, hmm?” Emil laughed and shoved the bag into his suitcase. “ _Nestrkej nos kam nemáš_ , Michele!” he added, teasingly.

“I just want to know! And don’t do that Czech thing!” He was getting frustrated. Emil always shared everything with him, even things Michele never wanted to know. So, what happened during the past two weeks? First no messages, then the beard and now this. What was it that changed Emil?

“ _That Czech thing_ is my mother tongue, Michele, it’s not my problem you can’t understand it.” Emil continued laughing. It was always so amusing to make Michele feel uncomfortable. The young Italian got angry so easily and because of such little things, but Emil always enjoyed smoothing things out with him afterwards, too. It was like a ritual.

“Just because you know some Italian it doesn’t mean you can make fun of me all the time, Emil! I’m tired of this!”

“Chill out, what’s gotten into y-“

“Don’t say that to me! You’re the one who’s not chill!”

“I don’t kno-“

“Look at you! You’ve changed!”

“It’s just a beard, Mic-“

 _“It’s not just the beard, Emil!”_ Michele yelled from the top of his lungs.

It felt as if the whole thing was just a dream. Suddenly he realized he was standing in front of Emil, yelling from above at the younger man with such anger he had not expressed for years. And, what was even worse, he realized Emil’s gaze was so different. The spark of joy always present in his eyes was gone. He could see his reflection in those gorgeous blue eyes, but, along with his face, they mirrored something he’d never seen in Emil’s eyes before. Fear.

“Why are you yelling at me?” Emil’s voice sliced through the silence. His voice was firm, but not angry, no. Disappointed, maybe. “What did I do this time?” he added a question more. His eyes were telling way more than the rest of his body could. Michele could see it. He could feel it. He overdid it this time. His facial expression changed from the one of extreme anger to one of sadness and pity in a split second with the realization of what he’d just done.

“I’m sorry, Emil, I… I just didn’t sleep well. I’m sorry.” Michele muttered, his English slurred as the right words only popped up on his mind in Italian. He wanted to apologize more, he wanted to tell Emil what was wrong, but his tongue went dead suddenly. All he could do was to sit back onto the bed and stare at his feet. So he stared. And he stared. It felt like eternity.

The silence was deadly. Michele didn’t dare to look up. He couldn’t, he was sure he’d just disappointed his best friend. His only friend. In the worst way possible. Why was he so frustrated? Wasn’t this what he wanted? Emil did everything he'd asked for. Maybe he was really just a bad man, after all.

“I-“

“You-“

They spoke at the same time. Michele looked up and gestured to his companion to continue talking. He wasn’t sure what to say, anyways.

“I’m sorry if what I said pissed you off so much.” _Oh fuck, no, now he is apologizing?_ “But we really need to go if we want to catch the men’s short. Let’s talk about it later, okay?”

That was Emil’s way of saying _let’s forget about this and act like it never happened_. Or, at least, it used to be. Michele wasn’t sure about the Czech teen anymore. However, he stood up with a quiet nod, dressed up and soon they were leaving the hotel room to join his twin sister at the grand stands. He was sure Emil was ready to cheer for everyone. It was going to be spectacular, so many great skaters! Yet… He wasn’t happy at all. Nor excited. The whole way he kept silently watching his young companion. _Let’s talk about it later, okay?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey! Another chapter just in. For those, who don't speak Czech:
> 
> Nestrkej nos kam nemáš - Don't put your nose where it doesn't belong (aka "it's none of your business, b*tch")


	4. IV. The Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can see how happy you are. The way you used to smile when around me… Now you smile like that when you talk to her.”

IV.

Oddly enough, Emil acted as if nothing happened the whole evening. No stupid jokes, no teasing about it and, most importantly, no telling Sara. Usually, whatever stupid thing Michele did, Emil was the first one to tell his twin sister about it, but this time…

“He was taking a nap, stop being mean to him.” Emil was laughing at Sara, who was visibly angry with Michele not calling her about their arrival sooner. She was astonished by the two men suddenly sitting next to her at the stadium. But, at the end, they had a good time. Mila joined them too, so they had four very different opinions on everyone’s skating and, however Michele hated to admit it, all this interaction finally made him forget about everything. It was just him, his three friends and skating, the only thing (besides Sara) that made him happy. Sure, he was still a bit grumpy about the fact he didn’t get to the final himself. But Sara was here and that was important too. And Yuuri seemed to belong there, he couldn’t say a word against him (if he forgot about the Japanese skater definitely trying to get to Sara back at the Rostelecom Cup).

When they got back to the hotel It was already almost midnight. They ended up having dinner in a nearby restaurant, chatting about everything. Everything, but Emil’s girlfriend. Sara never asked about her, Emil never even mentioned her, even though he talked about his life quite a lot. They hadn’t seen each other for some time, after all. And Michele was too shy to ask so obviously. They didn’t drink, but the flight got to them both, especially Emil who didn’t take his afternoon nap, so they had to say good night to Sara and head to their own hotel. Michele was quite scared. He didn’t know what to expect from his roommate after the door close behind them. He didn’t know how to apologize, what to say, at all. And Emil fell silent after Sara left. He barely looked at Michele, the smile he’d kept on the whole evening was gone in a bat of an eyelash and, overall, he seemed sad. All he did during their walk home was constantly checking his phone and typing something. _Probably to Lucka…_

They didn’t talk at all that night. Michele let Emil take a shower first. Any other day he’d probably fight Emil to get in the shower first, he wanted to be in bed as soon as possible, but that night… He’d do anything to redeem himself, even if it was by something as stupid as letting the other first into the bathroom. When he himself stepped out of the bathroom door, though, Emil was already sleeping. There was nothing else to do. He got into his bed and pretended to be asleep until, in a few hours, it became reality.

The next day wasn’t much better. Still not a word from the other male. The only time he heard him speaking was when he was on the phone. And he seemed so happy… Michele, of course, had no idea what the Czech was saying. If he wasn’t so stubborn and actually listened to Emil when he explained the language to him about fifty hundred times already, he would’ve known what Emil was talking about. Why did his Italian pride have to ruin everything? It bothered him so much. The yell, it still resonated inside his head. And he could still see Emil’s eyes when he closed his own.

“Emil-“

“Sara’s messaged me.” Emil said suddenly. Michele’s words were too quiet and insecure, the Czech didn’t even notice him talking. “Lunch in 15 minutes in the restaurant, are you coming?” he looked up at Michele, finally with a smile on his face. Sure he was. He was not letting Sara alone at a restaurant with _him_. He watched Emil put one of his absolutely ugly hoodies and a jacket on. Of course, he had to top the outfit with that gross fur hat with earflaps. Seeing them together in civil clothes could be quite a comical experience sometimes since Michele preferred the high-fashion pieces and Emil just instinctively threw on what he thought matched his mood the best. Not to mention  the Czech was able to dress himself up for the price of one Michele’s pair of jeans. They were oh so different. So what kept drawing them to each other all the time?

Michele kept asking this question the whole day. Why? Why him? Why me? When? When did this happen? What? What am I even feeling? There were too many questions and Sara soon noticed her brother wasn’t quite himself. His usual rough and stern look relaxed into a quite soft, tender one, clearly saying Michele was lost in his thoughts.

“ _What are you thinking about all day, Mickey?_ ” she asked quietly when they were sitting at the grand stand and Mila and Emil were discussing the upcoming performances. She spoke in Italian, as always when her brother needed a calm-down-talk.

“ _Nothing too important_.” he shook his head and looked at his sister with a little smile. “ _I am a bit lost today, that’s all.”_

 _“Well, then get unlost because I want you to cheer for me tomorrow.”_ she puffed up her cheeks teasingly. It wasn’t a common thing to see her brother like this. Emil even hugged her around her shoulders a few minutes ago and Michele didn’t flip out. In fact, she doubted he even noticed. She had her guess, but before she could ask anything more, the voice in the speakers announced the start of the event. At that moment they all forgot what they were talking about and started cheering.

*************************************************

Emil got a bit carried away that evening. It was his first GP final, after all! Sure, he wasn’t competing, but still, he’d never been in person at the final and he was overwhelmed. So many good skaters. And his friends all around. It was just too good to be true! He was, of course, cheering for everyone, but he really hoped Yuuri Katsuki of Japan could win. After the big flop at the Rostelecom Cup, he deserved a second chance here. And, well, he used it to his advantage by breaking Viktor Nikiforov’s record! Before Emil knew it, he was hugging his best friend, cheering so loudly his voice was cracking. They had so much fun that night, again, not just with the girls, but with the other male skaters too. Except Michele, who still seemed so off...

“So? Are you finally gonna tell me?” Emil asked when he managed to drag the Italian in front of the club. “You’re not being yourself today.” He added, when no response came. Michele still looked as if he was thinking hard about something and he didn’t even care when Sara started dancing with Chris right in the middle of the dancefloor. “Mickey, I’m talking to you.” He had to raise his voice once more, since the older male didn’t seem to be listening at all.

“I can hear you, Emil.” He said finally. _Woah, even his voice is different..._ Emil was starting to worry.

“Well, then tell me, will you? What’s eating you?” Emil leaned down a bit in attempt to see in Michele’s eyes.

“Emil, I’ve been thinking a lot.”

“Don’t you say…”

“I’ve been thinking about you and me.”

Well… that was a bit unexpected. Emil raised an eyebrow on that.

“Alright. And what did you come up with?” he asked, both his voice and his eyes hesitant. Michele finally looked up. His eyes seemed so sad, yet so incredibly reconciled.

“That you are my good friend. You really are. I know I’ve been so mean to you all the time and I’d like to apologize for it.”

“Where are you going with this?” Emil didn’t know if to frown or smile at that. Such pathetic language, that wasn’t Michele’s style.

“I looked inside the bag, Emil. Saw the bracelet. You must really love her…”

“W-Well, of course I do. But what does that have to do with anything?” he was so lost. What’s gotten into that Italian grump?

“Emil, I… I think I’ve been overlooking something big this whole time and I’m really sorry for it.” With these words Emil’s heart almost stopped. He’d never heard Michele’s voice so sincere and his words so painful. Did he… Realize? “You’ve been here for me the whole time and I just kept telling you to get lost or to shut up. I know you meant it well, you always mean it well.”

“Michele, why are you-“

“I’ve been feeling so shitty since you stopped messaging me. I didn’t know why and Sara kept making fun of me all the time for being so grumpy, but now I know what it was. I missed it, Emil.” Whenever Michele said his name, he could almost hear something breaking in the Italian man. The same Italian man who always took his jokes too seriously, the same man who always yelled at him for standing too close to his sister, the same man who never had a good word for him. Michele was suddenly here, saying such things with such sincere pain in his eyes… What was going on here? Emil was opening his mouth to say something, but before he could, Michele was reaching for his hand. They touched. Michele intertwined their fingers together without breaking the eye contact. To Emil it seemed as if Michele was trying to remember how he looked. There was something so eager in those dark purple eyes, yet he couldn’t say what it was.

“I missed you. And I couldn’t get over the fact you changed, you… You grew up. You are not a child anymore, you’ve been a man for longer than I have, in fact. With all you had to go through, with all _I_ put you through…”

“Do you have to be so dramatic? Everyone’s watching...“ he tried to make Michele stop, but it didn’t help, only his hand got squeezed tighter.

“Emil, I can’t ask you to leave everything for me. I have already lost my chance.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can see how happy you are. The way you used to smile when around me… Now you smile like that when you talk to her.” Emil couldn’t believe his ears and eyes. He had no idea what that was about, he didn’t understand a word Michele said, but he understood how serious it was when suddenly…

“You’re crying…” he stated. He didn’t even have to, the tears filling Michele’s eyes and dripping down his cheeks were pretty self-explanatory. “Why are you crying you old moron?”

“Can you, please, forgive me, Emil?” Michele’s voice broke. Emil was panicking. With his other hand he quickly reached inside his pocket, maybe he had a tissue there…? No, nothing there. Damn it. “Can you forgive me for wasting so much of your time? I was stupid, I was an idiot and I was blind and deaf to you and now it hurts so much to let go. Even though I know I have to…”

This was bad. Emil couldn’t do anything but nod. “O-Of course… I guess…? Listen, have you drank anything tonight?” But his question remained unanswered. As if Michele heard only what he wanted to hear.

“Thank you.” He brought Emil’s hand up and, to his surprise, he kissed it gently. “I always loved looking in your eyes, Emil. Whenever I felt bad they made me happy. Because they were full of happiness and joy. I would like to see that spark back in them. I didn’t mean to yell at you so much, it’s just… Some things are hard to deal with for an Italian man. Especially when he is heartbroken.”

 _So it really was…_ “Michele, wait-“

“I believe you two have a bright future. Please, cherish her and love her. And make her just as happy as you always made me.” Michele let go of Emil’s hand and without saying any other word, he left.

Emil stood there perplexed.

“W-Wait! Michele! What the fuck are you…” but before he could make the first step forward, he lost Michele in the crowd. “… talking about?” he whispered the rest and sighed.


	5. V. The Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can’t believe he did that!”
> 
> “Me neither, it was-“
> 
> “He’s such an idiot! A total moron! Why did he do that?!” Sara’s eyes were burning with anger. She’d been trying to call her brother for the past 20 minutes, but he didn’t answer. “I’m gonna go find him, Emil, this is not funny anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone!  
> I decided to do two big things - to post this chapter so early and not to split this chapter into two.  
> We all went through a traumatic day yesterday. It was the first Wednesday without a new episode of YOI. So, please, take this as a get-well-soon gift. As something you can fill the empty gap in your heart with. :')

V.

“I can’t believe he did that!”

“Me neither, it was-“

“He’s such an idiot! A total moron! Why did he do that?!” Sara’s eyes were burning with anger. She’d been trying to call her brother for the past 20 minutes, but he didn’t answer. “I’m gonna go find him, Emil, this is not funny anymore… Here.” She handed the confused Czech a key card. “Give me yours. I think he’ll be in your room, I’ll go talk to him and sleep there so that you two don’t have to deal with any awkward situations.”

“But you’re skating tomorrow! Just go to sleep, we will deal with it.”

“No, you know how he is. Just give me the key, I’ll message you as soon as I find him.” Sara insisted. And there was one thing you could not do to an Italian woman – say no. Emil handed her the keys and sighed out a quiet “Thanks” when he hid hers in his pocket. Before he could do anything else, Sara was already gone. Mila was having fun with the rest of the skaters and Emil wasn’t feeling like… well… anything. He decided to head to the new hotel room, he needed to talk to Michele very thoroughly the next day and it was better if he had at least his questions ready.

Luckily, no one saw him. The next thing he needed was a rumor that he’s involved with the Italian champion, Sara Crispino. As if he wasn’t in enough trouble already. He quickly opened the door and got inside the room. He took off his shoes and undressed until he stayed just in his t-shirt and underwear and he crawled onto the bed. There was no message from Sara still. He sighed.

He’d never seen Michele like this. Never in his life and they’d known each other for, how long? Ten years? When Emil was 7, it was the first time his dad took him and mom for a business trip. For _the_ business trip. Every year he left to Italy for two or three weeks during summer and every year Emil missed his dad very much. When he was 7, dad finally said little Mili was old enough to go with him and mom, so they made it sort of a family vacation. A vacation that was for free. Otherwise they would never be able to afford it. Emil didn’t understand a word in Italian, everything was so foreign there and everyone his parents met were just adults. Until daddy told him to dress in the nice shirt he got from grandma because they were going to visit “the boss”.

Mr. Crispino invited Mr. Nekola for a garden party and, of course, allowed him to bring his family, too. He had children a few years older, so they could play together while the adults talked about business matters. And that was when Emil met Sara Crispino. The most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. That was still a valid fact even in Emil’s late teens, by the way. They spoke in very broke English and had lots of fun. They understood each other even without words and Sara showed Emil her pictures from the last figure skating competition. She was stunning. And once she showed Emil a video, too, the little boy could melt from the overload of love he suddenly felt.

“I wish boys could do it too!” he sighed at the screen, watching Sara doing a beautiful combination spin.

“You’re so silly, Emil, boys _can_ do it! My brother Michele is a figure skater too!”

And so she showed little Mili videos of Michele Crispino, her twin brother. And Emil’s love grew even more. His heart was racing, his eyes were litl. This boy on the screen seemed…

So much nicer than he actually was.

 _“Hands off!”_ Mickey pushed Emil away from Sara, stepping between them. He was a tall, charming boy with a face of an angel and a temper of an adult man. Emil wasn’t intimidated, though. In his eyes, nobody who could look so tender and charming on the ice could be a bad person.

“I’m Emil! My dad works for yours!” he reached out to shake hands with Michele, who, instead, turned to his sister.

_“He doesn’t speak Italian.”_

_“No, he doesn’t. And he’s our guest, so be nice to him,”_ she gave him an angry look. Ever since they turned 12 Michele started being even more overprotective than before. _“Besides, he really likes your skating. You should be happy, he’s the first boy who didn’t laugh or make fun of it.”_

After that, Emil made Sara and Michele take him to the ice rink. He could skate, though a bit differently.

“I play ice hockey,” he nodded at Sara’s question if he’d ever stood on ice. “These skates are different, though.” He could barely feel the weight of the skates on his feet. Compared to the ones he wore for hockey, it was like sliding barefoot. And he enjoyed them way more. Hockey was not something he enjoyed. He was forced to play since he was little by his father who, for god-knows-why, decided his son would be a hockey player and wouldn’t let him do anything else. Emil was a great skater, always aware of the people around, with the ability to dribble around the opponents in a way no one else could, even in his young age. His hands, though, kept letting go of the hockey stick for no reason. He couldn’t hit the puck and when he did, he certainly didn’t shoot anywhere near the goal. Everyone laughed at him. He hated it.

But here, with Sara and Michele, he felt different. The twins showed him a few steps and a few figures, he even managed to do a spin soon. And he fell in love with it…

Michele brought him to figure skating and he could never be grateful enough for it. Michele also woke up the love inside him. Not only for skating, but for himself, too. And he suddenly learnt how to love other people in a different way. Even though he didn’t know it yet.

He jumped up on the bed with the firm knock on the door.

 _“Sono io_ _, Michele! Apri la porta!”_ his heart jumped, too. Michele was here? Of course he was, he probably wanted to speak to Sara...

 _“Solo un secondo per favore...”_ he muttered and ran to the door to open it. Michele was visibly surprised, staring at the pantless Emil in front of him. Emil saw the expression of disgust building up on Michele’s face and for just a second he was sure he was going to turn around and leave.

“She’s not here,” he said quickly. “She’s in our room, waiting for you. I’m here alone, she’s not here,” he repeated once more to make sure the Italian understood right. There was no response, but Michele didn’t leave. That was good. Emil reached for Michele’s elbow and dragged him inside, quickly closing the door behind him. This was their chance to talk it out. Because they needed to talk it out so badly.

“Just let me... put my pants on, okay? And sit down or something, don’t just stand there.” Emil smiled awkwardly and put his jeans back on real quick before sitting on the edge of the bed. Michele was still standing in the little hall, watching every movement of the tall teen. “I said sit down, Mickey.” Emil repeated more firmly. It wasn’t until then that Michele snapped out of his thoughts again and he sat down. On the chair next to a small dining table. Far enough from Emil. Way out of the danger zone.

“So...”

“So...?”

The silence was awkward. The both knew what to talk about, they just weren’t sure how.

“What was that thing outside the club about?” Emil asked directly. Usually he loved himself a good word play, but this time... he just wanted to know. And Michele was going to tell him. “I didn’t understand half of what you said. Explain yourself.”

“I said everything that needed to be said, Emil,” the Italian replied without a blink. His face was emotionless and so was his voice. As if it was a completely different person sitting in front of Emil.

“No. It was a bunch of romantic bullshit. I want to hear it in normal words. What did you mean by all that?” Emil leaned forward slightly. His eyes were burning with eagerness. He’d been thinking about everything Michele said and if it really meant what he thought it meant... Wouldn’t it be a dream come true...? “Say something, Michele!” he frowned. The other male didn’t even look at him. He kept staring on his feet, his face so stoic it was scary.

“Why? It doesn’t matter anymore.” Michele shook his head and his lips suddenly stretched into a sincere smile. His eyes were sad, though. Emil felt his cheeks getting hot. He’d never seen such look in Mickey’s eyes. Only once, when... When he was skating for Sara in Moscow... When she left him. But there was nobody leaving now, or was there?

“What do you mean by that? Of course it matters. At least to me, it does! Mickey, you are my,” he had to stop there for a second, “friend. I want to help you, but these past few days… You’ve been acting so weird!” Emil couldn’t contain himself anymore. He stood up and, without even thinking, he squatted down in front of the Italian male, placing his hands on the other’s knees. He was sure any other day he’d already get punched for a touch like that, but Michele looked too tired. Too vulnerable to even try and raise his voice. “I want to help you. I hate seeing you sad, how many times have I told you that?” Emil talked in a soft voice, looking up, trying desperately to make Michele look at him, but unsuccessfully.

“ _Mio caro…_ ” Emil gasped for air lightly. He’d never thought he’d hear these words from Michele… “I know I’ve always been a fool. But now, I cannot understand just how big fool I was.” Michele’s words sounded so different from his usual speech. Pronounced precisely, slowly, so different from his everyday talking when he spoke so fast nobody could understand half of the time. Emil wasn’t sure, but it almost felt as if Michele was making every effort to make Emil understand. “I was blind to your love, Emil. But it wasn’t until recently I realized I was blind to my love, too.“ When his gaze finally met Emil’s eyes, the Czech raised his eyebrows. So… it was true…?

“Do you mean-“

“I love you, Emil Nekola, and before I could realize it, it was too late. I’m so sorry…”

In Emil’s eyes, Michele looked like someone coming in peace with his own death. It was so strange to see him in such position, so sad, so calm…

“Why do you keep saying that?” Emil asked finally. The silence was unbearable to him. His voice was bitter and he was frowning again. He felt his eyes burning. “Why do you keep saying it’s too late?! I’ve waited for _years_ , Michele, and now you just say _Yeah, well, guess what, my stupid fucking brain finally got it, but, you know, it won’t happen_! What is this, some sick joke you’re playing on me?!”

The grip on Michele’s knees tightened. He was probably hurting the other, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was getting the answer out of this stubborn, selfish man. But, for some reason, Michele’s expression changed only ever so slightly, this time into a frown, too.

“How can you say something like that, Emil? I thought that you were a good guy, that you cared about your loved ones. This is a disappointment.” Now, more than anytime, he reminded him of Sara. With the strict voice and stern eyes, he really saw they were twins now.

“I do care about my loved ones, you stupid idiot! That’s why I’m here, kneeling in front of you like a total dumbass!” Emil suddenly lifted himself up, grabbing the collar of Emil’s shirt with his both hands. His forehead leaned against Michele’s as he spoke, his eyes burning with both hope and angst. “You can’t just come here and say you love me and reject me at the same time! Again! I am tired of you pushing me away, Michele, this is your last chance, you hear me? You take me now or I’m never coming back again!”

At those words Michele finally moved. He pushed Emil away with more force than the Czech would expect. Emil almost lost balance at the unexpected push and made a few steps backwards when Michele stood up.

“And what are you going to say to Lucie then?!” his words were firm and clear, full of reason, yet… In a way, hesitant. Maybe it was his eyes giving him away.

“Huh? How do you know about Lucka?” Emil tilted his head on the side slightly, the anger suddenly disappearing from his eyes. This was weird.

“Sara told me about her.”

“Okay, well… What does she have to do with anything, though?”

He probably said something wrong, but couldn’t figure out what. Michele looked more frustrated than ever.

“What are you going to tell her, you stupid Czech child! Are you heartless?!” he yelled. Well, at least the angry Italian man he knew was back.

“What the hell would I tell her?! It’s none of her business and if you come for a visit, I’m gonna tell her the truth – that my boyfriend is coming to live with us for a few days! Jesus Christ, Michele, what’s all this about?!” he couldn’t help the feeling they both were talking about something else. Were they even talking about the same person?

“That is not how you treat your girlfriend, Emil! For fucks sake, have you never dated before?!”

….

“Girlfriend?” Emil stared at Michele with his mouth slightly open. He couldn’t believe what he just heard. So… that was it? That was what started all the madness?

“Yes, your girlfriend Lucie, Emil! You can’t just come to her and shove the fact that you found someone else in her face!” Mickey was still yelling, but Emil didn’t care. A smile spread on his lips as he listened to the lamenting, now changing to Italian. Michele was losing his shit and Emil loved it. He always enjoyed teasing the other.

“Will you listen to me for a moment?”

_“… Stupido idiota…”_

“Michele, you’ve got it all wrong!”

_“… Non si può fare…!”_

“Michele!” Emil was almost laughing now. “She is not my girlfriend!”

At those words, Michele stopped speaking mid-sentence.

“We share a flat together, she’s my classmate. Who told you we were dating?” Emil laughed softly, looking the other male in the eye. It took a while before Michele was able to speak again.

“B-But the bracelet…”

“That’s for my mom, stupid.”

“And the call you had in the morning-“

“Granny. I was wishing her happy birthday.”

“And the picture on the Instagram?”

“What, I can’t hug my friends? We had so much fun that day!”

“You shaved, though! Why did you shave?!” Michele looked at him as if he still couldn’t understand it.

“Because you didn’t seem to notice it, anyway. It was too much work to maintain it.” Emil laughed and finally made a step forward.

“Michele Crispino, you Italian idiot. Could you explain one thing to me now?” he asked in a soft voice as his arms wrapped around the other’s body. Michele only hummed in a response.

“Why the hell would I date someone who’s not you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, big shout out to the tumblr user @treflev, who constantly helps me develop headcanons about this lovely couple. Without you, none of this would happen. You're my partner in angst. :') 
> 
> Also, let's translate the Italian! Also, if any of the sentences are wrong, tell me and help me correct them! :)
> 
> Sono io, Michele! Apri la porta! - It's me, Michele! Open the door!  
> Solo un secondo per favore... - Just a second.  
> Mio caro… - My dear  
> … Non si può fare…! - You can't do that!


	6. VI. The Blast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all those years he could still see the flames of anger in the eyes piercing his own. He could feel the grip of giant hands on his shoulders and the cold wall leaving white marks on the back of his jacket. And the scream he so desperately wanted to let out, but couldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!  
> Let's celebrate with some more angst!   
> I hate myself!   
> Someone stop me!   
> :') !

VI.

This journey was different. He usually looked forward to going home and seeing his parents, not this time, though. He was sitting in the bus, headphones in, a selection of We Are Number One crack remixes blasting into his ears. Usually he’d enjoy that and laugh the whole way, but today…

It’d been two weeks since their paths parted once again. They spent a nice, no, _magical_ week in Barcelona. He’d never felt so close to the Italian before. Their days were full of smiles and laughs, little touches, quiet whispers. Behind the door of their hotel room he saw the man of his life smiling so bright he couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen a smile like this. He heard words he never though would slip out of those beautiful, soft lips. He felt the touch on places he never thought would be explored by those tender hands. It was hard to say good bye. It was hard to let go. The last night was the worst, even though it seemed so innocent at first.

They were having dinner out, not in the restaurant they went to with Sara and Mila, though. They didn’t want anyone to interrupt them, it was their last evening together for some time and they both had a boyfriend to focus on. Yes, _boyfriend_. Emil still couldn’t believe it. Every morning he woke up hearing a low, sleepy “ _Mio caro,…”_ from Michele. And every morning it felt just like it did when he heard it the first time. Mickey seemed a little off at the dinner, though, and Emil was worried. There were millions of things coming on his mind, millions of problems that might cause Mickey act like that, that might cause Mickey’s smile change so slightly, yet rapidly at the same time.

“What is it, Mickey?” he asked softly and placed his hand on top of the other’s on the table. Michele pulled away, though. Emil frowned slightly, but kept the eye contact.

“Have you thought about… How the others might take it?” Michele finally asked after a good minute of Emil’s patient silence.

“Who?”

“Your family. Your parents… people around, everyone.” There was an undertone of despair in Michele’s voice. Emil knew the Italian family was religious and strict, but they also loved Michele very dearly. Hopefully they wouldn’t make his life hell just because of the choice of his partner.

“Mickey, if you don’t feel like telling your family…” he was interrupted, though. Not by words, but by the change in Michele’s face.

“I’m asking about _your_ family, Emil, not mine,” he said with such unexpected firmness in his voice it confused the Czech in front of him.

“Uh…” Emil rubbed the back of his neck, thinking, “I mean, they’ll be probably okay? Mom doesn’t care who I bring home. Dad’s a bit fussy, but he’s a good guy, he’ll get over it,” he smiled finally, reaching for Michele’s hand. This time he didn’t let it slip away and grasped on it tightly. “Why are you asking? We will be fine, don’t worry.”

Michele didn’t seem too enthusiastic, though. There was something in his eyes telling Emil that his boyfriend knew more than he did. And he didn’t like it. But he didn’t know if it was wise to ask.

“You look worried. What is it?” he sighed finally and leaned a bit closer over the table, still looking in Michele’s eyes. There was silence. _You don’t want to tell me? Fine. I’ve got all the time in the world. I’ve waited for years, a few more won’t kill me._

 ****************

It was a beautiful summer. Michele was enjoying being free from school and spent most of his afternoons at the beach. Alone. He didn’t mind it, there was plenty to do, plenty to see. Of course, Sara was out with her friends, but he didn’t want to bother her too much. Things had changed since he was twelve. Michele was seventeen and he grew up to be the most charming, beautiful young man. Tall, always neat and tidy, even though his eyes and face still gave away that he was just a child. Today his eyes gave away one more thing, though. All the excitement he felt. Yes, it was the end of June and that meant his best friend would come soon. Very soon, actually, he was supposed to arrive in a few hours.

If you told him a few years ago, he would never believe he’d have a friend like him. He was four whole years younger, just a little kid. Yet, somehow, this Czech dork managed to enchant the whole Crispino family. Everyone loved him since the day he came for the first time as a little 7 year old. Since that, he became a part of the family. Since that, they’ve met so many times, not only at Michele’s home, but also at various figure skating events. Sure, Emil never was as good as Michele or Sara, but his determination was enormous and he always gave his best. When he came for a visit every year, it was different, though. They didn’t have to think about scores and figures and jumps. When in Italy, they were just friends. And friends they were. Despite the distance between them they grew very close. Despite so many differences, whether those in wealth or cultures they grew in, they grew very close. They spent every evening sending each other texts and pictures, Michele bragging about new jumps he was learning, Emil sending the weirdest songs and images he could find on the Internet. They did all they could to brighten up the other’s day, to spare each other form the constant stress they had to deal with every day.

That’s why the following few weeks were so painful. After all those years he could still see the flames of anger in the eyes piercing his own. He could feel the grip of giant hands on his shoulders and the cold wall leaving white marks on the back of his jacket. And the scream he so desperately wanted to let out, but couldn’t.

Michele, whose father loved his children more than anything in the whole world, couldn’t believe Mr. Nekola’s words. The words pronounced in fluent Italian, even with the pure Italian anger present in every single vowel.

“ _Stay away from my son_.”

Even though he still remembered the whole monologue by heart, this was the sentence that still echoed inside his head the most. Not the threatening, not the insults, but this.

“ _You think you wealthy little brats can do what you want, don’t you? You made my son into a worthless flashy fag dancing around in glittery clothes! He could’ve had a great career as a hockey player. He could’ve had everything, but, because of you, he is just a mediocre skater with no future! He will never be good enough in it, we all know it. All he ever talks about is that stupid skating or you! Stay away from him until it’s too late. I swear I will make you regret it if you don’t. Stay away from my son.”_

The next second he felt his head banging against the wall as those giant hands shook his body. When a quiet, shook “ _Yes, sir_.” was forced out of his throat, it was the last time he ever spoke to Mr. Nekola. Not even a simple hello, he never spoke to that man again.

If the man tried to threaten him now, Michele would not let him. He was a man of high standards and principles and if anyone tried to lay a hand on him, he knew how to defend himself. And, of course, how to defend his loved ones, too. But back then… Jesus Christ, he was just a child! Of course he was scared to his wits! No one could blame him for the happenings of the following days.

“Uh… No, I mean… I just don’t want you to sleep in my room, Emil, hope you don’t mind…”

Of course Emil didn’t mind. Just like he didn’t mind Michele not talking much and not wanting to teach him the triple axel, just like he didn’t mind Michele not staying in the house for his birthday party. It felt as if every time he tried to get even just in the same room with Emil, his father was there, watching him, judging every step he made… After a week or so, he gave up.

He was so alone…

The only hope was Sara and he clung to her again, just like when they were children. She was the light of his life, she was his only friend, the only thing in his life worth protecting. She always kept saying he should find some friends, but… He was a coward. Too scared to be put into this awful situation again, too scared to be the _bad influence_ , too scared to be deprived of the beauty of friendship again. No. He was happy with Sara and Sara was happy with him. But, for some reason, Emil didn’t stop coming… He was everywhere, the more Michele tried to distance himself, the worse Emil made it for him by his constant messages and hugs and laughs and jokes and Christmas presents and party invitations until…

Until Michele started hating him.

Yet, not even that prevented Emil from falling in love with him when they grew older.

Thank God…

******************

Emil was coming home with such bitterness he hadn’t felt for years. The last time he felt so much angst inside him was when he was 14, having a final argument with his father about the figure skating career he chose. _“You can still get back to hockey, Emil, it’s never too late for that. Think about your future!” Sure, dad…_ He unlocked the door quietly, still not sure if he was ready to meet his father after hearing Michele’s side of the story. Of course dad never told him. Of course for years he thought he did something wrong that summer to make Michele seem so cold all of sudden. Of course, he was still his father, but…

“Look who’s home!” mom’s voice pulled him away from his thoughts. He smiled wide and spread his arms, awaiting the warmest, most sincere hug only a mother could give.

“Have you grown again? And look at you, I said you look so much better without that ugly beard,” she immediately teased Emil, pinching his cheek, now covered with a light stubble.

“Don’t be too enthusiastic, mom, I’m letting it grow again,” he laughed and kissed his mother’s cheek.

He missed home so much. Way more than he’d like to admit. Everything smelled so nice, the Christmas tree was already set in the living room along with a gingerbread house placed on a beautiful tray on the table next to it. The Christmas candy his mom baked was literally everywhere and he couldn’t make a step without being forced to eat some. The family dog, a little grey schnauzer Béďa, was following him everywhere making Emil almost trip over him every now and then. Yet, he still felt miserable.

“How did you enjoy Barcelona, sweetie?” his mom asked at dinner. Emil’s mouth was already stuffed with food, of course, he had to quickly chew to be able to answer.

“It was amazing! The city is beautiful, I think especially you would love it, mom,” he replied truthfully, his eyes sparkling a bit just remembering the place.

“And the competition? Unfortunately, there was a football match on TV that night, so, you can guess what we watched,” she threw a sharp, yet amused look at her husband.

“It was great, everyone was absolutely amazing. They’re so good! We had so much fun there, it was really inspirational and me and Michele had so much fun!“

“Oh, so Michele was there, too?”

“Yes! We went to cheer on Sara, she’s the only one of us to make it into the final. She won, did you hear the news? She’s so amazing!”

“So you and Sara are still close?” Emil’s father finally joined the conversation. Though he didn’t even look up from his plate.

“Sure, we talk pretty much every day. Why?”

“Oh, I was just curious. You know, you’re a nice young man, she’s a nice young lady…” he laughed and finally pierced Emil with his eyes. As much as he didn’t want to ruin the dinner for everyone, Emil felt it was now or never.

“I’m already dating someone else, if that’s what you mean, dad,” he said putting the cutlery down and straightening up at his seat. A blast was coming and he needed to be ready for it.

“Really? What kind of son are you to not share that with your old parents? Who is the lucky one?”

“Michele.”


	7. VII. The New Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Come on, I’m sure he’s doing fine, dolcezza, remember, if there were any bad news, you’d already know them,” she rested a hand on his shoulder in attempt to make him feel better. Mickey smiled at least.  
> “I know, you are right. But…”  
> “But you miss him, right?” she laughed softly and ruffled her brother’s hair lightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm ending this lovely piece along with this shitty year.  
> May 2017 be only full of love, acceptance and happy endings for you!

VII.

He didn’t enjoy this. He really, really didn’t enjoy this. If it wasn’t for him trying not to spoil it for everyone else, he would be whining about how much he hated it. The annual New Year party in his parents’ house. He never really enjoyed it in the first place, yet alone this year when his mind was full of worries. Sara got lost with some of her friends soon after the party started and the rest of the people there were mostly his father’s peers. He had nothing to talk about with them. So, he spent most of the night sitting on the couch, staring on the screen of his phone.

Except there wasn’t much to look at. Emil’s messages stopped suddenly a day before Christmas. Not a single text, an e-mail, a comment on Michele’s Instagram, nothing. Simply nothing. He knew his boyfriend was heading to his parents’ house for the holidays. He knew they lived in a small town near the place Emil lived, but that was it. What could’ve happened for him to stop messaging him so suddenly? Just the day before the silence came, Michele received four links to youtube crack remixes of his favorite songs from Emil. He never listened to them, even though now he was tempted. It couldn’t be worse than the music his mother chose for this party.

“Mickey, stop looking at your phone and come have fun with us!” Sara chirped as she sat next to her twin brother. She was wearing a gorgeous black dress going down to her knees and her hair was pinned up. Michele spent an hour before the party trying to take the perfect picture for Sara’s Instagram. “Come on, I’m sure he’s doing fine, _dolcezza_ , remember, if there were any bad news, you’d already know them,” she rested a hand on his shoulder in attempt to make him feel better. Mickey smiled, at least.

“I know, you are right. But…”

“But you miss him, right?” she laughed softly and ruffled her brother’s hair lightly. “You know, I remember seeing this face on your every time Emil left back home in the summer. I should have known you two would end up together.” That made Michele’s cheeks turn pink.

“You _knew_ we would! It was your plan all along, don’t play it as if it was a coincidence!”

“Maybe I pulled a string here and there…”

“You lied to me about Emil having a girlfriend!”

“You needed the right push, Mickey! Or a proper kick in your butt, rather. Don’t look at me like that, if it wasn’t for my little harmless lie, you would be alone and miserable.”

“I _am_ alone and miserable.”

She laughed and hugged her brother playfully. “Just come to us when you’re done staring at that picture of Emil,” she reminded him and stood up, running to her group of friends again. He tried to protest that that was definitely NOT what he was doing, but she didn’t hear him, anyway.

As the night went on, he felt grumpier and grumpier. All the couples around him, disgusting. He knew he would definitely look at it differently if _he_ had his boyfriend here, but for now all the affection around him was making him sick. At one point he even ran into his sister making out with one of her girlfriends in the kitchen. _Gross._ But he didn’t even try to get the girl off his sister. She was an adult. And even though his hands were itching from the urge to pull those two away from each other, he wanted Sara to be happy. Even though he was going to talk about this with her the next day, definitely.

It was almost midnight. They were all holding glasses of (overpriced) champagne and his father was having a long and boring speech about the year 2016. At least for his company it was a good year. He liked seeing his father happy, he deserved it. And he felt even more proud when one of the highlights of the year mentioned by his father, was his sister’s victory at the GPF. Sara was tipsy already and almost climbed onto the table to bow down to everyone when they started clapping. Fortunately, her new… girlfriend? managed to hold her down. They started the countdown.

  
_10…_ Everyone was holding hands in eager awaiting of the sound of the old clock hanging above the fireplace.   
_9…_ Michele closed his eyes. He couldn’t think of anything happier that happened this year than the one hug Emil gave him in Barcelona.   
_8…_ The one which confirmed the two of them were destined to be together from the beginning. The one Emil gave him with a cheeky smile and a cheesy question.  
_7…_ The first night they spent in one bed, one curled in the arms of the other.  
_6…_ The smile he saw on Emil’s face when they woke up in the exact same position.  
_5…_ Their first kiss during which Michele’s stomach rumbled and Emil started laughing. He almost died from the embarrassment, but Emil calmed him down with another, even longer and softer kiss.  
_4…_ The day they spent sight-seeing in Barcelona and they held their hands for the first time in public. He was so scared people would be mean, but Emil managed to calm him down again.  
_3…_ The selfie Emil took of them in the bed when they just woke up, their hair all messy and lines imprinted on their cheeks from the crumpled bedsheets. The next time he checked his Instagram, there were hundreds of notifications because Emil actually posted it online. Everyone was so happy for them.  
_2…_ The long lasting hug at the airport. The one during which Emil cried and he couldn’t calm him down…  
_1…_ A buzz of the phone… A buzz of the phone?!

Michele quickly took the phone out of his pocket, ignoring the sudden cries of happiness all around him. The screen showed a simple message.

 _“OPEN THE DOOR!”_   

He handed the glass to the nearest person and made his way through the crowded room. His heart was racing, his eyes were wide open even though everything seemed kind of blurry around him. It felt like a dream. He finally opened the door.

And there he stood. The tall Czech, in his warm jacket and with a backpack on his back, leaning forward, hands on his knees as he was trying to catch a breath.

“Did I make it in time?!” he asked eagerly.

“No, you didn’t,” Michele replied with tears in his eyes, a smile spreading across his lips.

“ _Do háje!_ ” Emil cursed, his head hanging down. He was all sweaty from the long run all the way from the train station. And, visibly, disappointed. “I’m sorry…”

“Fuck you, Nekola,” Michele laughed and finally stepped outside to give his boyfriend a firm hug. “I’m never forgiving you for coming late. I don’t care you travelled across the whole Europe just to surprise me like the idiot you are. I’m gonna remind you for the rest of your life that you didn’t make it for the midnight kiss,” he pouted, though his voice clearly gave away it was a joke. He couldn’t believe it. He hid his face in the other’s shoulder, pressing him even closer to himself. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“ _Jak na Nový rok, tak po celý rok_ … I couldn’t live with the thought we’d be separated for the whole year.” Emil muttered, his voice still shaky. His hand slipped right in Michele’s hair, brushing through it lightly. Michele shook his head, nuzzling his face even more into Emil’s body.

“I thought something happened with your father…”

“I told you eventually he’d be fine, didn’t I?”

“But you didn’t respond to my messages!”

“You don’t respond to me all the time and do I panic?” Emil gave a cheeky smile.

“I hate you,” Michele finally let out the frustration of that night out. “Come in, you’re so goddamn cold-“

“No, wait,” Emil quickly grabbed Michele’s hand when the Italian pulled himself away and headed back to the house. Emil pulled him back to himself.

Their lips finally pressed together. And Michele’s stomach rumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> dolcezza - sweetie  
> Do háje! - Damn it!   
> Jak na Nový rok, tak po celý rok. - an idiom, meaning the way you spend your first day of the new year, the way the whole year will be for you.


End file.
